


Under the Bridge

by orphan_account



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Marvel
Genre: Crack Crossover, Dark Comedy, Drug Use, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 07:37:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15262575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Junko had it all. A vibrant modeling career, a gifted, analytical mind, and to think she was the dreaded avatar of despair all in her past life! But now she is kicked out of the fashion industry, had a public breakdown, and is reduced to a pathetic life in the slums, attempting to feast off her own despair by chugging alcohol and tweaking herself with various chemicals, unable to even feel her most desired feeling.The Despair Sisters stumble upon a quirky cast of allies and villains, all affecting their new life. Can Junko become the Ultimate Despair again? Or will she be condemned to mediocrity?





	Under the Bridge

Oh, the wails and the shrieks of despair were but earworms in her head.

She was there when a hapless bystander met their end when the pin was pulled off of a grenade.

When an entire class of students found themselves urge to slaughter each other in gruesome ways.

When an innocent soul was trapped in a hellish labyrinth, only to meet her end within tips of spears.

When the whole world collapsed and tore itself apart in a despair-fueled orgy in the name of its goddess.

And when all these failed to sate her desires, the goddess submitted herself to the mercy of a crusher and found none.

Her companion had no taste such for such melodies, however.

But when she was there when she blocked off the ice pick meant to take her life again and again.

When her angelic voice presided over a spectacle of dread, distrust, teror, bloodshed and, finally, despair.

When she-  
\--  
"MUKU, THIS COKE FELT LIKE SMELLING SEWAGE WASTE! Can't you bring something... uh... with a little more buzz, you useless piece of penguin shit?!"

This has just been the fifth time this day that Junko complained about the chemicals she's placing in her body. Early morning, she whined that her morphine tasted like muddy soap. An hour later, how her cold beer was like drinking paint thinner (though Junko wished it was). Afterwards, how her molly pills only destroyed her mood, making her feel like she wants to shove her hands in the spinning blades of the fan. Mukuro wondered if this is the result of mixing random drugs together, or if these are degrading her senses, maybe even both. With empty bottles and used-up syringes dumped in the living room floor, it's hard for anyone to pick the correct drug. 

"Junko, just a minute, okay?" Mukuro then replied. 

She's been like this ever since that... incident, Mukuro only thought in pity. Just a few years ago, various fashion magazines were heralding Junko Enoshima as the next Cara Delevingne. Her confident smile often made the covers, and anything she wore were pretty much what teenage girls bought the most in stores. Her followers in various social media sites showed no signs of decreasing, and designers were practically brawling with each other to have her promote their outfits.

Now, they're just barely making ends meet in what can only be charitably called a 'shack'. Mukuro, fitting her military background, has taken odd jobs for local businesses after her dishonorable discharge from Fenrir. Stacking produce for small stores doesn't pay much, after all, as soon she finds herself back as a mercenary. But it isn't governments nor corporations paying for her services, rather they are local crime lords paying her to rough someone up, or put a bullet in someone's head. 

"You a fucking turtle?! Jesus, you're a blathering dumbass only good for physical shit, now you're a goddamn turtle? C4 for you!" Junko could barely contain her anger.

Junko has been inconsolable since her breakdown. After that event, she then spent her money buying all the painkillers she can afford. When these aren't enough to get her fix, she eventually moved up to uppers, downers, hallucinogens; one time she tried bath salts and the results can still be seen in the restroom. Mukuro was willing to let her sweet little sister get all the drugs she wants, and even do these along with her, even when the time where she was asked to retrieve krokodil for her. 

"I'll be right back, little sis!" she immediately ran out the front door in search of more.

"God-fucking-dammit," Junko could only sulk. Destroying her body was one of the few hobbies she has left, and even then she feels nothing but boredom second to the side effects of the drugs she takes. "WHY CAN'T I FEEL IT LIKE I USED TO?!!" With her rage, she threw her fentanyl bottle into the floor, spilling its contents. 

She would just take them tonight, though. Didn't matter how many days those pills have been laid out on the floor.

Now she felt her stomach rumble. "Shit, I haven't ate since yesternight." While her sister Mukuro can cook, heated meals based on military rations are starting to taste stale for her, and they don't even have a water cooler. Upon buying bottled water from a nearby store, she would sneak up to their neighbors' houses, see if they're not around, and just grab stuff that she can from the fridge.

Not unlike what they did as children.

Today, it seemed, was not the time. Going outside, she noticed three- no, four men walking straight for their shack. Sporting skinheads and carrying either brass knuckles or lead pipes, their swastika or 666 tattoos two of them had gave them away - neo-Nazis. 

"You black-haired bitch, are you there?!" the biggest of them roared. "Give us our speed back, or we'll smash your skull in!" 

A sober person would instinctively hide from them, run in the other direction as fast they can. They would call the police in, and find a secure place inside the house, making sure that proper authorities would handle the situation.

But Junko was not sober.

"The black-haired bitch you're looking for? She ain't here..." she could only drawl. "Try me, instead.", taunting them.

"Wait... is that that Junko bitch? What brings her here?" the small one among the skinheads couldn't believe what he's seeing. "Boys, I tell you, she makes me crank my big ol' shank erry' time she shows up in my head!" The neo-Nazi gang only laughed at who was once a rising star in the modeling industry, now a disheveled mess baiting them to beat her up. "Now she's here in the flesh, boys! Donny, hit her!"

*THUD*

"Where is our fucking speed, you cunt?!", the big neo-Nazi growled.

"Leave her corpse for that black-haired bitch." The one with the shades struck her face with a lead pipe.

"Gunther, Will, she's not here, right? Wonder where she went." Jimmy, the small one, was aiming the hacksaw right at Junko's left arm.

"Jimmy, settle down. Let me handle her." 

Junko found herself, beaten and her limbs tied up in a wooden chair at their own home. Will, the muscular one, brought with him a clothes iron, and plugged in the socket near Junko's chair. "Here it is, Doug."

"Aaaaah..." Junko mouthed off like she was getting off the whole thing. Nostalgic for the old days, Junko dreamily thinks what sorts of punishment they can dish out on her. "Are they gonna follow their threat and indeed smash my skull in? A power drill to the knee may come in handy..."

Except she doesn't seem to be getting off the whole thing.

"Come on. COME ON!" She can barely contain her impatience. "What are you fuckers waiting for?! Shove that iron in my body already, you slow pieces of shit!"

"What is she saying"- 

"You heard the cunt, bring it in!" Gunther screamed, surprised that the blonde was more than willing to take the iron.

The clothes iron became very hot, and Doug pressed it firmly in Junko's right hand.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" Junko screamed in pain. Pleasure, she wished, would eventually come a second from now. Then a second later - not yet - and later, she's not getting off - what's taking it so long? - another second - am I becoming numb? - and three seconds later...

...Doug lowered the clothes iron, and motioned for Jimmy to unplug it from the socket. "Show us where the stash it, or this is gonna go right in your face." Showing the sole plate right in Junko's face, he immediately followed up, "Show us. Now!"

"What's taking Muku-chan so long?" Junko wondered. "Did she mix up the drugs again? Guess I'll do this myself." If she doesn't do anything now, she may never feel pleasure from despair or depressants ever again.  
\--  
Just across the street from Junko and Mukuro's shack, there lived a man with a peculiar gift.

In general, even the most punctual persons can miss their appointments. Sometimes, they become too sick to leave the house. Other times they just forget had such appointment in the first place. Even more have unavoidable emergencies, their own or their loved ones'.

Lester Murray knows no word such as 'miss' in his dictionary. In his current job, he has a perfect attendance record, even coming in with a splint in his broken arms. 

But the other thing he never misses is in his shots. Most contract killers like him are already proficient with assault and sniper rifles. From a far distance, their targets often never hear these assassins' bullets coming for them.

His gift was that his targets never hear the cards, coins, marbles, and the like speeding fast at them. Bullets can be traced back to the culprit, but small, inconsequential objects as the cause of death? These cases can stump even the most perceptive of crime detective; no one would suspect an assassin if he uses beads instead of bullets as projectiles, after all. 

Opening his bag of loose change and taking out pennies and quarters, he was planning to go to the arcade when he saw neo-Nazis surrounding his neighbor's shack, armed with baseball bats and knives.

"Damn, they're after me again." Without a second thought, Lester picked three up three quarters from her bag and threw them straight out the window. With lightning speed, the thugs couldn't react fast enough, and they promptly fell when the quarters lodged themselves in their ankles.

"Where was that from?" One of the skinheads hissed.

"I think it's from that house over there!"

"Get him!"

"They have to be in public? Really.." Lester sighed resignedly as he flicked a coin at their direction. Like a bullet shot from a gun, the penny pierced one of the thugs' knee directly. Unbeknownst to Lester, however, two of them snuck through his house's backdoor and eventually tackled him to the ground.

"Got you, asshole!" The neo-Nazis had their way with Lester; punching and kicking him for a few seconds until he reached for his pocket, drew out a calling card and sliced one of them in the throat with it. 

The other was not so lucky, as he was sliced in his genitals. The resulting screech could've broke the windows if it were a bit louder.

"Just what the fuck are you-" The thug's words were cut off as the card found itself in the center of his forehead.

Lester couldn't help but answer back with an evil grin. "Bullseye."

Looking back at the aftermath, he couldn't help but think just how he can clear his home of bodies. He could try moving them himself, if he wasn't injured by those thugs, though the stench can give them away.

"Guess they'll be staying in the basement for now." Lester had other things to do. Picking off those thugs who ruined his day is top priority.

Upon dragging the two bodies under his house, he then flushed the bloodstained card down the toilet. "Now, where can I dispose of this guy's dick?"  
\--

"Alright, fine!! I'll show you were my stash is." Junko was already bored with her ordeal.

She wished that she could feel that sweet, intoxicating despair from the fists, the pipes or the clothes iron. Or the fact that a bunch of lowlife thugs tied her up and are thinking of beating her to death. 

But for some reason, that sensation would not appear! She is the Ultimate Despair in the flesh, goddamnit! How can she even be called that if she could experience not a second of it?

What would she be, even?

"Jimmy, untie that cunt, now!" Gunther, the big neo-Nazi commanded the shorter thug. "She just squealed."

"You trusting her, Gunther? Pretty sure she's just fucking with us." Unfastening Junko's ropes from the chair, Jimmy couldn't help but doubt her words. Even when the bitch wasn't even getting off when her hand was burned, he noticed that she looked so dreamy when the iron was heated. 

"You want your speed or not?! If you weren't dumbfucks, you would've beat my sister instead!", Junko snapped. "Why didn't you just burned me there? Stabbed me? Shot me? Even just opened me up and fucked me?! You useless twats couldn't even make me feel nothin' except pain, and not the fun kind!"

The thugs stood completely silent. Did she just ask to be torn apart? What kind of person is this?

"Since that fucking day, all I wanted to do was to experience despair! Speed, crack, molly, weed, angel dust; I get none from these shit!" Junko's droopy, bloodshot eyes looked at them with hate. "Ever been born feeling nothing but nothing and only finding my fix in despair? Huh?!"

Still silence.

During Junko's rambling, one of the thugs went near to the other.

"She's really never been the same since, you know..." Jimmy whispered to Doug, dropping the hacksaw. "She ain't worth our time."

"I ain't leaving without our speed, you goddamn midget!" Gunther's ears picked up at what was just said. ""

"-hope is overrated! If I ever see anyone with a little bit of that shit, I'll make sure that the bits of his flesh spread over the floor! Who even needs it!? I used to be on top, yet it's the only thing that keeps me going-"

"Should I just sneak in?" Will was getting bored of hearing some drug junkie comparing the concept of hope itself to a bad drug.

"-you think I didn't hear that!? Your stash was so easy to steal, a man with no arms can do it! Well, if you keep on torturing me right now, and by the way, it's not even the fun kind, then you ain't getting my speed!" Junko could've gone from insulting hope to insulting these thugs, if it weren't for that becoming tedious by and of itself. "I'll be back!"

"Hey, that's our speed you're talking about!"

But the door to the kitchen has already been bolted shut.

"C4... C4.... where did my good-for-nothing sister put the C4?!" Drug-addled and wounded as she was, she had the sense not to vocalize these thoughts, or the thugs might have figured out what she was planning.

Mukuro was always organized when it comes to sorting her military hardware. The silenced pistol itself was in a secure safe, but always handed it over to Junko when she felt like 'playing'. Cans, pigeons, and street cats were her preferred targets.

But the explosives were always put in high places, high enough that she wouldn't reach them.

Except the C4. 

Three years of living in that small shack had Junko aware of its many structural defects. Analyzing where the cracks and weak foundations didn't take too long, though she made it a habit to pop a pill every time she even scanned a piece of paper. Helps ease her ensuing boredom, even by a bit.

A pack of C4 by the gas tank, a grenade or two in the sink, even three pipe bombs at the pantry... why not spill flammable liquids all around the room as well?

Then she came out.

"It's in the kitchen. You're gonna have to search pretty hard to find it~" With a cutesy smile, Junko lured the skinheads into her trap.

"What's wrong with her?" Doug commented.

"We just beat her senseless, burnt her hand, now she's acting like we just gave her a teddy bear or something?" Jimmy remarked as well.

"At least we get our speed back. Come inside, boys!" Gunther barely hid his excitement.

"Yes, boss!"

Once the four skinheads went inside, Junko quickly ran outside and went where she'd be safe from the blast. "Not a bad point to see the fun," she thought.

All she needed to do was press the detonator in her hand, but then she wondered.

If these neo-Nazis are going to burn to death screaming, why not take part in the fun? Perhaps when she feels the flames consume her body, despair will come back, like it always did. Perhaps she can savor her own slow, agonizing death, just like she did in her past life. Junko just kept counting more ways to pleasure herself in her suffering.

She was so lost in thought, the detonator in her hand dropped.  
\--  
"Have you found the speed yet? Crossbones' damn impatient by now."

Will and Doug were rummaging through the cupboard, Gunther through the cabinets, when Jimmy noticed a grenade rolling forward.

"Was that just a gre-"

That was the last thing they said as the explosive went off.  
\--  
"Junko, I brought your coke! Wait... was that our home? Junko! JUNKO!"

Mukuro ran as fast she could back to their now-burning house, praying that she wasn't caught in the fire.

"She's gotta be where I taught her to be in times like this. She has to be..." was the only thought pervading her mind that time. That her beloved sister may have been burning alive right there in the spot.

Looking frantically outside the inferno, panic began to fill Mukuro's mind.

This was their housing in flames. She could visualize her gasping for air in the midst of the smoke, the fires filling up her room. Knowing her, she'd be having the time of her life, and would probably yell at her to just let her burn. 

While she doesn't want to ruin her beloved sister's euphoria, that means she would lose her for good.

"I could smell your stench from here, Muku-chan!" All of a sudden, Junko came out of her hiding place. "Was bathing illegal in your unit? You know, the one you've abandoned me for?"

Mukuro was never more relieved in her life. "Who did this to you? To our house?"

"I did."

She could not help but look at the now-ablaze shack they've once built. The home she promised to create to protect against the cold.

All gone because of Junko's impulses. But Mukuro had to stomach it for her sake.

"So, how's the puppy?" was the only question she could muster.

"We had a pet?"

"Yeah, but we couldn't afford to buy him food or shelter." Mukuro feeding their puppy morsels of food from a trash bin was all but a memory now. Now, she's not even sure if there's anything to bury. "I sure miss him right now."

"Well I don't. Hope he's in animal hell right now!" Junko's made her hatred for animals (except bears, for some reason) clear often. "Anyway, what took you so long? I got tied up by skinheads, had a hot clothes iron pressed against my hand, and I can't feel despair anymore!"

"So, those thugs came to our house?" Mukuro replied in concern. "What did they do there?"

"Well, they were looking for your sorry ass to beat, so I volunteered instead." Junko's eyes began to widen. "Sis, I wouldn't let anyone else beat you. Only I can do that!~"  
\--  
Lester looked at the burning house from his window, and saw two teenage girls outside. One had long, blonde hair, wore dishevelled rags, and had the appearance of a junkie. The other had short, black hair, had a white long-sleeved short on, and seemed to be more normal than the other.

Now they were at the door.

"Hey, is anyone there? We'd like to move in to your dingy apartment!"


End file.
